


The Vultures Lie In Wait

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Series: Shaking Up the Precinct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-13
Updated: 2000-02-13
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Det. Mitchell receives a phone call that forces her to confront her past.This story is a sequel toIn a Flash.





	The Vultures Lie In Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Vultures Lie in Wait

**STANDARD DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story, with the exceptions  
of Allie Mitchell and Libby Walker, are the property of Alliance Films  
and Paul Haggis. This story is written solely for the enjoyment of the  
readers--no copyright infringement intended. However, we ask that you  
don't use Det. Mitchell and Det. Walker in anything resembling slash.  
Thank you kindly!**

# The Vultures Lie in Wait

####  _By Amaroq Wolf and Black Magic Woman_

**_Series: SHAKING UP THE PRECINCT_**

**WARNING: Rated PG for strong language and heavy angst.** ______________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Detective Allie Mitchell looked over the shoulder of the civilian aid as she typed in the name of the perpetrator. Unlike her friend, Detective Elizabeth Walker, she enjoyed making both men and women nervous. She noticed the only two people she couldn't do this to were Rachael Kowalski--the daughter of Detective Stanley Kowalski--and Walker. 

She shook her head and pushed her almost-black hair out of her eyes and looked at the aid that was watching her. She stared back until the aid fidgeted nervously. Mitchell smiled coldly and watched as the aid turned away. 

She walked over and picked up the sheets that had been printed out. "Thanks," she said as she dropped into her seat and looked at the rap sheets. She dropped them on the desktop as the phone rang. 

She picked it up. "Violent Crimes, Detective Mitchell." 

"Allie?" Her brother, Caleb, was on the other end of the line. 

"Oh, my god." Mitchell paused. "How are you, Caleb?" 

"I'm fine, Allie." Caleb paused. "It's Dad." 

"What about him?" she said, her voice suddenly carrying a cold tone. 

Caleb laid the news on her very quickly and mercifully. "He's dead." 

The news hit Mitchell like a semi. She sat back in her chair, speechless. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I really am." 

She hung up the phone, knowing her brother would understand why she chose to do so. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. She then turned her attention to the sheets in front of her. As she scanned them, her mind wandered into what she considered forbidden territory. The reason she considered it forbidden territory was that thinking about it caused her great pain. 

She thought about her father. 

\----- 

As long as she could remember, her father had always been there, but unlike for most people, this was not a good thing. His big, imposing frame loomed over her like a shadow from a child's worst nightmare. How he acted toward young Allie Mitchell was nowhere near pleasant. 

A cop like his father and his father before him, he hadn't wanted a daughter. He wanted another son. Adding to Allie's apprehension was the fact that he never lost the chance to tell her how he felt about it. 

"You're worthless!" he would say. "The only thing girls are good for is making babies and cleaning house!" 

He would berate her every chance he saw. Whenever she tried to ignore him, he would wait until her mother and her brother Caleb weren't around, and then he would lock her in the closet. 

The darkness and the deathly silence, although extremely traumatic, weren't the worst part. Her worst fear was that her father would forget her and that she would die in there. When he finally let her out, he would give her one of those cold smiles that said that he had won. 

\----- 

Blinking, Mitchell looked at the clock and realized that it was time for her to go home. She reorganized the file and put it in her desk. Looking up, she saw Detective Stanley Kowalski staring at her. 

"What?" she snapped at him. 

"Nothing," Stanley replied as he turned away. 

Mitchell grabbed her coat and left the precinct. When she reached her black Dodge Charger, she climbed in and started the engine. 

\----- 

She had tried to show interest in some of the things her father liked, but he thought she was being stupid and would force her to stay in her room. Eventually just locking her in the closet wasn't enough, so he would hit her a few times and leave her in the closet even after her mother got home. 

After her mother died, the situation worsened. The time Allie would spend in the closet increased by hours. Sometimes, he wouldn't even let her out for dinner. She remembered how loudly her stomach growled when she smelled what was being served and how lousy she felt that she couldn't have any of it. 

She later discovered that her father loved classic cars. She developed an interest in them, but her interest went beyond trying to please her father. Her interest was genuine. He seemed happy that his daughter finally had a true interest in something he did. She went so far as to cut her waist-length black hair short and start wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. He began taking her to Yankees home games and they would cheer together. 

For two long years, everything was peaceful. She had no idea that the worst was yet to come. 

\----- 

Mitchell pulled her car into the parking spot in front of her apartment building. She got out, entered the building, and climbed the stairs to her own apartment. She crashed on the couch and looked at the ceiling. Suddenly a cold wet nose touched her cheek. 

"Hey Amaroq," she said as she patted the black German Shepherd's head. She paused as Amaroq licked her hand and whined. The whining was Amaroq's way of asking Mitchell how her day was or what was wrong. 

"My father died today," she said as she stared at the ceiling. "No more phone calls, no more harassment. He can't do that crap to me anymore." 

She was silent for a few minutes before Amaroq licked her face and let out a soft bark. 

"You're right, Amaroq." Mitchell let out a sigh. "I need to stop thinking about my father." 

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm gonna order some Chinese food. You want some?" 

"Woof!" Amaroq replied. 

"You can't just eat fortune cookies." She laughed as Amaroq whined. "Alright, but eat some chicken first," she said. "Then you can have some cookies." 

She picked up the phone, called the restaurant, and placed the order. She then crashed on the couch and turned on the TV. "There should be a Yankees game on." 

As Amaroq lay down next to the couch, Mitchell petted his head. 

\----- 

Her eleventh summer had started out great. Her father had finally thought she was okay for a girl, and she had finally made some friends. Allie Mitchell was finally coming out of her shell. 

One day though, her father suddenly let his horrifying true colors shine in a terrifying explosion of fury. She brought a friend home from school, and her father suddenly snapped on her. She ordered her friend to leave, and then he dragged her out to the garage, where he locked her in the trunk of his car. 

"You'll stay in there until you learn some respect," he had growled. 

She could barely move, if she could move at all in the cramped space of her father's trunk. By the time Caleb finally let her out, she didn't know how long she had been in there. As she sobbed in his arms, she told him she wanted to leave. 

"Where are you going to go?" Caleb had asked her. 

"I don't know," Allie had said through her sobs. 

"Dad's a cop," Caleb told her. "No matter where you go, he'll eventually find you." After an uncomfortable pause, "My best advice, Allie, would be to work as hard as you can and get out as soon as you can." 

She had cried herself to sleep that night, but Caleb's words helped her a great deal in the next couple of years. 

\----- 

Mitchell jumped when the doorbell rang. She relaxed when she realized it was the delivery boy with her food order. 

She walked over to the door and exchanged the money for the food, giving the delivery boy a handsome tip. When he left, she placed the food on her table, sat down, and looked at Amaroq. 

"We made a deal, so here's your chicken, Amaroq," Mitchell said as she set a dish of Hunan chicken in front of Amaroq. 

The two of them ate in silence. When Amaroq finished his chicken, she kept her end of the deal by giving him two of the fortune cookies. 

She looked out the window and saw that it was raining. As she looked at the TV, she rubbed a scar on her left temple absently. 

"I wish I could call Caleb and talk to him again. I need to talk to someone human." 

Amaroq whined. 

"Not that I don't love talking to you, but you know what I mean," she said as she scratched him behind his ears. 

\----- 

For the next two years she worked hard, busting her ass in every way she could. Her achievements included the following: NHS officer, representative in student government, four Presidential fitness awards, and other such honors. Two days before her graduation she stood before her father and told him that she planned on entering the police academy. She expected him to be ecstatic, but instead he exploded in a blind rage. 

Caleb later told her that he had come in the door to find their father pummeling her. Reacting to what he saw, Caleb had grabbed their father and shoved him across the room. 

"If I ever catch you laying your hands on her ever again, I will find you and I swear to God I will kill you!" Allie remembered Caleb shouting, even in her semiconscious state. "Do you understand me, you son of a bitch?" 

Looking at Caleb, Allie thought that their father was going to hit him. Allie had jumped to her feet and gone after her father. She grabbed her father and bit his hand. He reacted by slinging her across the room so hard that the impact she made with the wall shook the entire house. 

That was the last thing she could recall from that day. 

When she woke up she was lying in a hospital bed, and Caleb was sitting in the chair asleep. He had a bruise on his cheek. As she struggled to sit up, Caleb awakened. 

"Relax, Allie," he said pushing her back onto the bed. The look on his face, however, told her that their father had gotten away with it. 

"Why, Caleb?" she asked him. "Why do we let him get away with this shit?" 

"I have no control over our father, Allie," he replied. 

Allie sighed as she lay back down on the bed and dozed. 

The guidance counselor later came to the hospital with her diploma. Allie haltingly told her the entire story. Two detectives questioned her after the counselor left. She knew the truth, though: cops protect cops. No cop would turn in another cop--how many times had her father said that? 

\----- 

Mitchell woke up and looked around the living room. Amaroq was snoring on the other end of the couch. 

She rubbed her eyes and looked at the TV. It was off the air. She looked at the clock and was surprised to find that it was 4:30 in the morning. 

She turned off the TV and went into the kitchen and turned on Mr. Coffee. She then yawned and stumbled into her bedroom. 

She dropped onto her bed, pulled the quilt up over her head, curled up into a ball and fell back asleep. 

\----- 

Two months into the academy she felt a sense of release--her father couldn't get to her any more. Even so, she trusted no one except for her brother. During her time in the academy, she discovered she could make people nervous. She had, over the years and without knowing it, picked up the same cold smile her father had sported. After graduating from the academy--the only person who came to the ceremony for her had been Caleb--she was teamed with an association of her father's comrades. Always being compared to her father made her extremely resentful and angry. One day, she finally hauled off and punched her partner for harassing her. As a result, she received her first official reprimand. 

She had hit it off great with her next partner--sadly, she witnessed his death at the hands of a gang member while protecting a youth. She was shot that same day, saving the kid he had tried to save. This led to her first citation as a direct result. 

\----- 

The alarm clock woke her at 7:30. As she slid out from under her comforter, she realized she was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. 

She went out into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. As she walked into the living room, Amaroq sat up on the couch and looked at her with a doggy grin on his face. She looked out the window at the city of Chicago and sighed. 

She finished her cup of coffee and went into her bedroom to dress for work. When she came out, she grabbed her jacket and left the apartment. "STAY, Amaroq!" she said. 

Normally, Amaroq accompanied her to work, but today, she didn't know if she could handle his donut theft antics in the state she was in. 

\----- 

Two weeks after she made the rank of detective, her father started calling her and taunting her, telling her she was worthless. She dealt with it the best that she could, but the taunting dragged on for months, taking on a harsher degree of malice as time passed. 

Finally unable to take any more harassment, she filled out a request for a transfer. 

"I'm bored with New York," she said when her superior officer asked her why. 

After several months of waiting she gave up all hope of getting transferred and was walking around the city lost in thought when a black streak of fur sprinted past her yelping in terror. Following quickly behind were two teenage boys who were laughing. She grabbed the first boy and yanked him around. His face, which had been laughing only a moment ago, was now red with anger. 

"What the hell are you doing to that poor thing?" she shouted at the boy. 

"Hey, leave me alone, lady! You can't do nothin'." 

Mitchell let the boy go and walked into the alley where the dog had disappeared. Upon further investigation, she saw that it was no more than a puppy. 

"Come here, little guy. I won't hurt you." 

The puppy must have believed her because he slowly crawled out of his hiding place. He was small and skinny, but he was nonetheless a rather handsome dog. She led him to her car and drove him to a local animal shelter. The vet looked him over and told her that it would be hard to get a home for him because he was so scared of everything. As she watched the vet lead the puppy away, he kept looking back at her. 

When she got to work her boss handed her some papers. According to the paperwork she had received, she had been transferred to Chicago. She had a week and that was it. 

Mitchell nearly jumped up in the air and hollered. She was finally getting away from her father, and there was no way in hell that she was going to let him know about this. 

The day before she was scheduled to leave, she went back to the animal shelter. 

"Do you still have the puppy I brought in a week ago?" she asked. 

"Yes, we do," said the head of the shelter. 

"I'll take him with me," she said. 

"Okay," said the owner. "I'll go get it for you." 

The puppy was so happy to see her that she smiled. She left the next day with her new family, which she named Amaroq. 

When she reached Chicago she had some difficulty making friends, but one of the newer detectives, Elizabeth Walker, took her under her wing. She was grateful for Walker's support and easily broke in her new path at her new precinct. Still, her father made her nervous. 

\----- 

Now that her father had died, Mitchell was sure she would find some relief, a sense of closure. The feeling of peace, however, didn't come. _My father's dead now, he can't torment me anymore,_ she thought. _So why the hell don't I feel any peace?_

The question bounced around in Mitchell's brain as she arrived at the precinct and set about her work. 

"Hey, Allie," said a voice behind her. Turning around, Mitchell found herself face to face with Detective Walker, who was holding a paper lunch bag. 

"Hi," Mitchell said. Trying to smile, she glanced at the bag that Walker had. "I'm guessing that there's something in that bag for me." 

Walker smiled. "I guess. Want a bagel?" 

Mitchell managed a shaky smile. "Sure, why not?" 

Walker took a bagel out of the bag and handed it to Mitchell. "Here you go." 

Mitchell smiled as she looked at the bagel. Cinnamon raisin, her favorite. "Thanks, Libby," she said as she started nibbling at it. 

"Not a problem, Allie," Walker said before she headed for her computer. Mitchell observed her and booted up her computer. 

As she looked at the computer screen, the phone rang. She picked it up. "Violent Crimes, Detective Mitchell." 

"Detective Allie Mitchell?" a male voice asked. 

Mitchell fought back her frustration at the man. "Yes!" 

"This is Commissioner John Forbes of the N.Y.P.D. We heard about the recent death of your father." 

Mitchell took a deep breath, trying to contain her anxiety. "And?" 

"We were wondering if you could take the time to say a few words about your father," said Commissioner Forbes. "If you have the time, of course." 

"Oh, I have the time, all right." Mitchell felt her anger and fury boil to the surface at the mere mention of her father. "Let me guess--you want me to say my father was a great guy, that he's the reason I became a cop." 

The sarcasm was present in her voice, which was rising with each word in all her fury. _How could anyone defend that horrible bastard after what he did to me all my life?_ she thought. _This son of a bitch has absolutely no idea what he was really like! No one does!_ The thought of anyone exalting such a demon made her snap. 

Mitchell exploded on Forbes with a vengeance straight from the furies of hell. "Well, he wasn't, you son of a bitch!" she shouted. "He was a heartless asshole with a heap of shit where his heart should have been! He hated me and I hated him! You have no idea in hell what that fucking bastard put me through! If you did, there is no way in hell you'd be calling me to get anything on him!" She slammed the phone down with such force that it made everyone in the bullpen jump at least ten feet. 

She sat back down and held her head for a few minutes. When she looked up, she saw Walker looking at her with concern in her eyes. 

"Allie, what's the matter?" she asked. 

"Nothing." Mitchell's response was clipped and terse. "I don't want to talk about it." 

Walker could see the tears forming in the other detectives' eyes as they witnessed what was going on. She especially noticed that the head of the precinct, Lieutenant Harding Welsh--whom Walker had dubbed "Hardass Harding"--was looking especially vulnerable. Not only that, Walker herself was fighting to hold her own tears back. 

Mitchell jumped up and ran out of the precinct. She headed for her car at a breakneck pace, her tears threatening to surface. 

By the time she reached her car, her tears were streaming down her face. She climbed into her car and shut the door. She put her head into her hands and cried for a long period of time. She let her tough-as-nails front drop and gave in to the turbulent emotions that held her hostage. 

After several minutes, she heard a tapping on the front passenger window. She looked up to see who had the suicide wish to disturb her. 

It was Stanley. 

Mitchell pushed the door open. " What?" 

Stanley pointed to the passenger seat. "May I?" he asked. 

She didn't know why she was doing it, but she nodded and Stanley climbed into the car, looking at her in concern. 

"All right, you're in my car," she snapped. "Now what do you want?" 

"You needed someone to talk to, didn't you?" he replied. 

"What, may I ask, ever gave you that idea?" she asked. 

"The way you were talking to that guy on the phone," he replied. 

Mitchell sighed, not sure of what to say. "My father died recently," she finally answered. 

"Oh." Stanley felt like a total heel. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," she snapped. 

Stanley was taken aback by her reply. "What?" 

"I'm glad he's dead." Mitchell was adamant. "Why do you think I transferred from New York?" 

Stanley was confused. "I don't know." 

He saw the tears streaming down Mitchell's face as she looked away from the window. 

"I came here to get away from my father," said Mitchell. "To stop him from tormenting me, from hurting me." 

"What exactly did he do?" Stanley asked. "Did he neglect you, abuse you, what? What did he do to make you snap like that in there?" 

She pulled her leather jacket off and held her arm out for Stanley to inspect. "See these?" she asked as she pointed to the small but numerous circular scars on her arm. 

Stanley was shocked as he discovered what the scars were--the imprints left from where her father had punched her with his police ring hand. He saw the words "Service, Community, Loyalty" on every single scar. 

"My father did that with his ring," Mitchell explained as she surrendered to her raging anger. "He punched me with the fist it was on." She let out a sarcastic laugh. "To serve and protect my ass! If I needed any kind of protection, it was from him! He was the worst kind of father anyone could have!" She was choking on her sobs that racked her body as she buried her head in her hands again. 

After a few agonizing minutes, a tentative hand touched her shoulder. She wanted to shrug it off very badly, but Stanley pulled her towards him and rocked her gently before she had the chance. With each breath she took, she could smell his scent, and she hurt worse every second. 

"It's okay, it's okay," he said soothingly. "Not all cops are bad guys. I mean, look at Fraser." 

Mitchell laughed, unable to help herself. "Yeah. I guess Fraser is a good example of a good cop." She paused. "Look Kowalski, I'm gonna head home. Tell Welsh it's a family emergency. Could you?" 

"No." Stanley shook his head. 

Mitchell was taken aback. "What do you mean, no?" 

"I can't let you go off on your own in the shape you're in." 

Mitchell shot Stanley a glare that would have scared the most ferocious being alive. "Please remove yourself from my car." 

Stanley shook his head. "I can't, Mitchell. If I left you in this state and you killed yourself over this, then I'd never be able to forgive myself." 

Mitchell reached out and slapped him. Stanley grabbed both of her arms. As she fought like a caged animal to free herself, she scratched his arm. Stunned, Stanley shoved her away. 

Mitchell's demeanor changed so suddenly that it surprised Stanley. She lowered her head, expecting at any second the slap that he would never deliver. 

Stanley reached out and touched her shoulder, and winced as she shuddered at his touch. It hurt him to see her like that, to see the pain that she was in. 

He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I'm not like your father, Allie," he said as he rocked her back and forth. "I will never hurt you. Ever. And neither will anybody here." 

Stanley held Mitchell tightly as she sobbed in his arms. He felt a bit out of place, but he decided that it didn't matter--Mitchell needed his support, so he wasn't going to move. 

After what seemed like an eternity, her sobbing stopped. Stanley looked down and saw that she had cried herself to sleep. 

Stanley grabbed his cell phone off his belt and dialed Welsh's office. The phone rang twice before he picked up. "Welsh." 

"Sir, this is Kowalski. I'm calling from the parking lot." Stanley took a deep breath. "From Mitchell's car, to be exact." 

"Does this have anything to do with what happened earlier?" 

"Yes. She's asleep now. She cried herself to sleep. Sounds to me like she needs the rest of the day off." 

Welsh paused for a long interval. "All right," he finally said. "But I want you to drive her home and keep an eye on her for a while, even after she wakes up." 

"Yes, sir." Stanley listened as Welsh gave him Mitchell's address, then he hung up, opened the passenger door, and gently maneuvered the sleeping detective into the passenger seat. Once he buckled her in, Stanley took the keys from the visor above the wheel and started the car. 

When they got to her apartment complex, Stanley lifted her out of the seat and carried her in. Mitchell was surprisingly light for her size, so Stanley didn't have to worry about breaking his back as he carried her up the steps to her apartment. 

It took Stanley a lot of effort to unlock her door without dropping her, but he managed. Once the place was unlocked, he carried her in and searched for her bedroom. 

It was straight ahead. 

Stanley carried her into her bedroom and gently laid her down on the bed. He proceeded to take off her shield and place it on the bedside table, and then he took off her shoes and set them on the floor. He then pulled the comforter over her and gently removed her Yankees hat, placing it next to her shield. 

He took a moment to look at Mitchell as she slept peacefully. Not having the ability to put up a tough front while sleeping, she looked as fragile as a porcelain doll. 

Stanley studied the sleeping detective for a minute, then pulled up a chair next to the bed. He sat there for a while, immersed in his thoughts. 

Stanley then stood up, leaned over the bed, and kissed Mitchell on the eyebrow. 

"Don't worry," he said. "That monster can't hurt you anymore. Hang in there, okay? I'm here for you, and things will get brighter." 

Stanley didn't know how Mitchell would react when she woke up, but he didn't care. She was his main concern. He wasn't doing this because of Welsh's orders, but because he cared about Mitchell. He would stay there with her, and Mitchell wouldn't be alone upon waking up. 

THE END 

Copyright 1999 by Amaroq Wolf and Black Magic Woman 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

All raves and flames are to be directed to and--we await your feedback! (No otters, please!) 

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